


Teletai

by Call_Me_Clarence



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Crazy hannigram symbolism, Greek Mythology - Freeform, I was reading Carl Jung and drinking, Mithraic altar peices, Symbolism, This is the outcome, Transformation, abigail killing, dreamscape, initiation ritual, it never stops, its a dream, ravenstag as two sperate beings (raven and a stag), the beginning of abigail's becoming, white bull - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Clarence/pseuds/Call_Me_Clarence
Summary: Abigail falls asleep, and her dreams commence the dawn of her becoming.





	Teletai

Abigail found herself standing at the edge of a familiar clearing; spruce trees surrounding the edges; pale snow blanketing the ground; the only signs of disturbance being the freshly dug grave. 

She wears a red dress which wraps around her, and flows down to cover her bare-feet in long waves of silky red. Her toes wriggle in the snow, yet she notes she feels no cold, almost like she’s removed from the scene, seeing it but not feeling it.

Her breath was visible as small puffs, like withered clouds that escaped her mouth at an increasing pace; her breathing speeding up as she recognized the scene. A sense of dread and worry consumed her, but there was a small part that begged to roar in victory over the patch of turned dirt, over the body of her kill.

“Embrace you true nature, Abigail,” a voice called out to her.

Fear seized her heart and she crouched down defensively, looking up to the starry sky, following the voices origin.

There, above her, face encapsulated in the moon as if he were looking down at Abigail through some opening in the sky, was Hannibal. He smiled down at her.

“It is alright, Abigail,” he encouraged “Your instincts are that of a predator, do not deny them, or you may succumb to them completely.”

“You’ll become nothing more than an animal,” another familiar voice echoed across the landscape.

Abigail turned and noticed that half of the sky was suddenly alight, as if day and night where happening at the same time, and there was a very obvious divide of where light met darkness. 

“Get to know your beast,” Will’s voice spoke again, and she saw him then, within the Sun, much the same as Hannibal was within the moon.

Will smiled down at her reassuringly. 

Abigail stood from where she was crouched and took a step back so she could take both of her parents in at the same time. Will and Hannibal; the Sun and Moon, sharing the sky in all their glory, Night and Day split down the middle evenly, defying all laws of the universe.

“It’s time,” Will told her, looking down, not at Abigail anymore, but at something else.

Abigail followed his gaze to the grave-site, which now held the presence of a white bull. 

The Bulls horns were carved with symbols Abigail couldn’t place, and wreathed in flowers. The breath Abigail’s lungs forced from her now looked like large plumes of smoke as she panted from the adrenaline flowing through her system. The Bull blew out fierce clouds from his nostrils as he pawed the ground, his head bowed.

“Let this sacrifice facilitate your becoming,” Hannibal spoke from the darkened side of the sky, stars shining brightly around him “As your father said: it is time.”

A sudden cold weight appeared in Abigail’s hand, and she looked down to see she now grasped an ornate dagger, symbols carved in both the golden hilt and shining metal blade, the same symbols carved into the Bulls horns.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this,” Abigail’s words rang out, loud to her own ears; her voice shook from fear and adrenaline.

“We believe in you,” her fathers’ said together. She looked up at them, at the faith and adoration in their eyes.

Abigail took a deep breath and then turned to meet the Bull.

As she sought eye contact, the Bull looked up to meet her gaze. She knew those eyes; they were Nicholas Boyle’s.

Her body started to tremble and she feared she would drop the blade, when a warm presence pushed up against her lower leg. She looked down to see Winston, staring up at her. The dog gazed at her with a similar look to her parents.

Winston turns to the Bull and growls and Abigail feels a similar growl pulled from her throat. She fists the dagger tightly and strengthens her stance, ready to move at any moment, at the first sign of an opening. 

Reacting to Abigail’s change in posture, the Bull charges, and all at once Abigail is pulled into the scene like being dunked into icy water: the frozen air biting at her skin, the snow making her naked feet so cold they burn, the heat rolling off Winston the only warmth she feels. 

She wants to scream from the sudden over-exposure, and maybe she does, voice mixing in with Winston’s viscous barking. 

The Bull is within striking distance and Abigail ducks under a thrash of horns. She turns quickly to reach over the Bull’s shoulder, over his head, to grab roughly at his snout, pulling his head back sharply. 

Abigail stabs the animal in the side of the neck, Winston jumping up to bite high on the Bulls flank. Abigail roars as the sweet thrill of the kill thrums thickly through her veins.

She lets go of the Bull, who stumbles forward, blood spurting out heavily from his wound, beautiful splotches of red covering the snow and darkening the color of Abigail’s dress.

Winston continues to attack, and as Abigail drops down to her knees - to watch her victims dying breaths – a stag emerges from the thicket of spruce trees at the edge of the clearing. He walks slowly over to the bull, huffing in disgust, before pinning him down viciously.

The Bull whines in protests, but the Stag continues to hold him, the reason why shows up in a flutter of ebony wings; a Raven flies down from some unseen branch and lands on the Bull’s head. The bird turns it heads in contemplation before viciously ripping the Bull’s eyes out with its beak and eating them both in quick succession. Screaming in pain, the Bull finally dies, both Stag and Raven covered in its blood now too.

The raven flies from the Bulls head, to the stag’s antlers, and they make their way over to Abigail. She looks up to the sky, to see the sun and moon are gone.

The stag nudges at her gently to get her attention. Abigail turns and looks up at the Raven and stag. They gaze down at her appreciatively; the stag shakes his head and bows, the raven holding fast to its post as not to be knocked off.

Abigail bows her head in return, keeping her eyes down on the blood stricken snow, and the Stag leaves, taking his Raven friend with him.

Winston makes a whimper from next to Abigail and she turns to him, before following his gaze. 

The corpse of the Bull is now being swarmed in scorpions and snakes; they devour his body, a moving mass of black over the white fur of the beast.

Abigail watches the retribution and smiles, she hasn’t felt this well sated since the first time she killed Nicholas Boyle.

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading in Carl Jung's 'The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious' and he was talking about 'Mithraic Altar pieces' and so I looked them up (here's a picture: http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/images/hb/hb_1997.145.3.jpg ) and I instantly thought of Hannibal, mostly because I always think of Hannibal...Anyways, I couldn't resist writing this. The title (Teletai) is the name of an ancient initiation ritual that the followers of Dionysos would go through in the mountains (Its somewhere on this page: http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/myst/hd_myst.htm , I put the word through an ancient greek translator to get a clearer meaning). So I'm thinking this is just the first installation in a series. I'd like to follow Abigail's transformation into her true self, as Carl says 'The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.' and it would be my privilege to write it :p


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